Elmo stirred in his seat as Baring Som, the fresh, new surfer-metal band out of that sleepy little northern California town, left the stage in a flurry of screams and hoots. Now it was time. Elmo couldn’t wait. The small, dark Rita was about to take center view. But as someone leaned over and whispered, “Today will be mostly cloudy with a high around 60 and tomorrow will be dry and in the middle 60s,” his spirits plummeted momentarily. It wasn’t her! It was … Angela? The dork-girl? She sauntered up to the mike, nodded to her boys, and after squirting the crowd with dish soap, sang her soliloquy in a perfect, Julliard-trained voice. She was rad.
Star-struck Elmo
Published May 20, 1997
